He led his people to the east before they reached Trace, and cut across the countryside, where the settlements grew smaller and sparser as they approached the boundaries of the nation. They were approaching an angled extension of Hydrotaz, where the human rule met the Eastern Forest of the elves and the wilderness of the Water Mountains. A day after passing Trace they ran past the last farmstead they would see, and continued on through a landscape that grew more rolling and more heavily forested as they progressed.
And Medeina grew more youthful in appearance once again, as she returned to the habitat that better resembled her own home wilderness. The elves in his entourage noticed, and at one stop, Pierodot approached Kestrel to mention the comments among his troop.
“It must just be the light in the forest here that makes her look more beautiful,” Kestrel tried to explain away the change. He noticed it himself though, and felt his heartstrings tugged by the semblance of Moorin and the reminder of Putienne.
The speed of their travel slowed in the unmarked terrain of the mountain foothills. Kestrel led them along game trails, and sent the imps out in the lead to provide scouting reports on trails that would take them northeast. A full day of heavy rain further slowed their travel, as the paths grew slippery, the elves grew muddy, and the creeks and rills flowed full of water across their way.
When Kestrel judged they had gone far enough north, he turned the group to the east, and another day took them out of the foothills and into a more gently rolling terrain. The rains ceased, and the group stopped to dry out and spend the night in a level spot in the northern part of the Eastern Forest.
Kestrel looked around, where various items of clothing were hung from tree branches, drying and dripping their accumulated moisture.
“Mulberry, would you send some scouts out to find the direction to Firheng, and see if there is a battle going on in the area?” he asked.
“How far are we from this place?” the imp asked.
“I think about a half day’s run away,” Kestrel estimated.
“We will do our job,” Mulberry assured him, then sprinted upward and called the other imps together. Moments later, pairs of imps went buzzing off in multiple directions to the east, northeast, and southeast. An hour later, the first pair returned, reporting nothing visible.
Several minutes later another team from the northeast returned and reported no signs of any settlements more than a few cabins in the woods.
Shortly after their arrival, the last two teams of imps came flying in together, coming from the southeastern direction.
“We found the city,” Killcen reported.
“And we found an army approaching them,” Odare revealed.
“The city already has an army around it; it is under siege,” Killcen added.
“The army that is approaching is larger; they’ll be able to attack the city successfully, it appears likely,” Odare one-upped Killcen.
“How long will it take us to reach the city?” Kestrel asked.
“Three hours,” Killcen answered.
“Three and a half,” Odare corrected him.
“How long will it take the other army to reach the city?” Kestrel asked.
“Half a day,” Odare replied.
“Approximately,” Killcen agreed after a pause, wanting to be more precise, but unable to frame a better answer.
“Both the armies – the one besieging now and the one approaching – are larger than the force you have here, Kestrel general,” Killcen reported.
“Everyone, prepare your gear!” Kestrel turned and called loudly to the assembled elves. “We’ll move out in fifteen minutes. We’re heading into battle,” he added, setting the camp abuzz with activity.
In just a few minutes, the elves were prepared to go, and lined up in their marching column.
“Lead the way and tell us when we get close,” Kestrel told the imps, then set the whole party in motion. They began to run through the damp forest, Kestrel setting a faster pace than before as he hurried his rescue party towards Firheng, where he expected to find his friends.
“Odare!” he called after two hours of running. “Odare!”
“What is it, Kestrel? Are you now – in the middle of this jaunt towards death-defying adventure – stricken with love for my beauty?” the imp called as she swooped down low beside him.
“They don’t take you very seriously, do they?” Medeina asked.
“They give the impression of irreverence, but they are loyal and faithful, ferocious and fierce in battle,” Kestrel told her.
“If I received such treatment from my woodlands inhabitants, I think I would banish them,” Medeina muttered.
“Odare,” Kestrel spoke to the imp. “You’ve met my friends in Firheng before.
“Go to Casimo’s office, and let them know a force is coming to help. Tell them about the other forces coming as well, and ask for their advice on how to coordinate our attack to help them,” he instructed.
“And take some scouts with you, to tell the fighters in Firheng what is happening around them.”
“We will do as you say, but do not let me miss any of the battle,” Odare said firmly.
“We will save a portion of the battlefield for you,” Kestrel promised solemnly. “We’ll ask the other side not to fight until you arrive.”
“That is my true Kestrel-friend!” the imp said brightly, before she flew off. She gathered together half the imps, and Kestrel watched through the bare canopy of nearly leafless tree branches as the squadron of imps arrowed ahead of the running elves. The emptying branches would be both a help and a hindrance in the upcoming battle. Kestrel had expected that his forces would have to ambush the larger force besieging Firheng, but without the protective cover of leaves upon the trees, a stealthy arrival among the tree limbs upon the flanks of the Center Trunk forces would not be possible.
He ran for five more minutes, then excitedly turned to Medeina, as a new idea entered his thoughts.
“My lady!” he spoke.
“Kestrel, what is it?” she asked with a slightly amused expression on her face.
“The trees – you know the wilderness. Could we make the trees sprout leaves?” Kestrel asked.
“Right now? They’ve just dropped their leaves,” the goddess pointed out.
“I know. But the leaves could hide our positions, so the other army wouldn’t know we were approaching – it would let us sneak up on them,” he spoke earnestly.
“It would be bad for the trees – very bad. They would suffer all through the winter and in the spring time. We can’t do that,” she told him severely.
Kestrel sighed in dejection.
“But we could make fog,” she said a moment later.
“That would hide your movements, wouldn’t it?” Medeina asked.
“It would!” Kestrel agreed. “That would be perfect.
“Do you know how to make fog?” he asked. “I don’t,” he admitted.
“Of course. It’s a simple thing, with heat and moisture. I’ll show you when we get close,” the goddess told him as she reached out and patted him on the cheek, then laughed.
Just a little while later, Odare came flying in to meet him. “I have spoken to the ones you know, Casimo and Belinda-enchanter. They are most happy to hear of your arrival!
“They say that you should attack the ones who are on the south side of the city; attack them from behind. The elves inside the city will come out through a gate and attack them as well, and that way you will be able to break the siege for a little while, and your forces will be able to enter the city and join the garrison there. They are very unhappy to hear of the new army coming from the other direction,” she told Kestrel.
“Casimo said that after you join them and they talk to you, they can decide whether to abandon the city or not,” the imp added.
Kestrel nodded gravely, with pursed lips. If the commander of the Firheng base was prepared to talk about abandoning the city, then the situation must be desperate
for his friends. As he thought of Putienne and Remy, as well as Hampus, and the other refugees who had flocked to Firheng and joined Arlen, Casimo, Belinda, and the others at the base there, a set determination to save them overtook Kestrel.
His pace began to increase. “How long until we reach the south side of the city?” Kestrel asked Odare.
“Just fifteen more minutes,” she said.
“Can we start producing the fog now?” Kestrel asked Medeina.
“It takes a little time, so perhaps we should,” the replica of Moorin agreed. She reached out and grasped Kestrel’s hand. As she did so, he felt an energetic mixing of their powers.
“First, think of air, warm air, all around the city,” Medeina intoned as they ran. Kestrel felt her thoughts leading him to focus on the concept of the air, particularly air that carried a great deal of humidity.
“Draw moisture up from the ground,” she murmured gently. The recent rains had left the loamy soil of the forest saturated with water, and Kestrel followed her lead in making the dampness rise up into the air, increasing the saturation, while no breezes blew through the region.
All around them the air suddenly catalyzed into a soupy fog, going from high visibility to thick mists in a matter of two seconds, causing the elves behind them to gasp.
“It’s alright!” Kestrel shouted back. “This will protect us so that we are not seen as we arrive at the battlefield.
“Everyone prepare your weapons,” he said in a lower voice.
Over the next few minutes, he outlined the plan, to attack those who besieged the city, then to break through and enter the city.
“You are just moments away,” Mulberry told him as she flew erratically towards him through the fog.
“This fog does not even reach the tops of the trees, but it is nonetheless impossible to see through,” she told him. “It is hard to track your movements.”
“Column, form a line,” Kestrel ordered, causing his elven followers to fan out to the left and right of him. Some drew bows and arrows, ready to fire into the fog, while others held knives in their hands.
Moments later they crossed among the rearmost of the Center Trunk guards who were encircling Firheng, and they began to battle.
“Drive them to the sides! Open a hole in the middle,” Kestrel shouted out directions. He had chosen to use his staff as his weapon of choice. His knife could hardly be thrown at adversaries who he saw when they were less than ten feet away from him.
“Stay behind me,” he ordered Medeina as he moved ahead of her and swung his staff at the head of the first opponent he faced.
The attack from his forces was unanticipated by the Center Trunk encampment they fell upon, and panic became the predominant initial reaction, as shouts and the clash of weapons unnerved the elves who had camped outside the rebellious city. Numerous elves were killed in the initial minutes of the battle, as the fog made the direction of the attack and the size of the force uncertain. The Center Trunk guards imagined a larger, deadlier foe than existed; they began to panic and to run wildly, seeking safety, crashing into one another as they tried to stumble out of the path of the unseen attackers.
Kestrel’s people moved effectively for several minutes, and then Kestrel heard the sound of another conflict taking place in the distance.
“That must be the Firheng forces fighting their way out from the city walls,” he told Medeina.
“Oaktown! Forces from Oaktown, close in on me!” he shouted to give direction to his followers.
“Oaktown!” he called out again and again, as he directed his own progress towards the sounds of battle in front of him.
“We can release the fog now,” Kestrel asked Medeina. “How do we do that?”
“A breeze – we just create a breeze to blow the fog away. First though, we have to reduce the moisture,” she responded. Medeina placed her hand on his shoulder, and he felt their energies combine once again.
Here, she spoke directly to his soul, use this power this way to make the moisture sink back into the soil, she showed him. It felt as though he was using his power to wring the air around him, to cause the tiny particles of foggy moisture to accrete, grow larger and heavier and settle down towards the ground.
Now, the breeze, Medeina led him to a different use of his powers, adding hers as they stirred the atmosphere all around them, causing movement that Kestrel immediately felt on the skin of his body.
“Oaktown!” Kestrel heard a voice call, an echo of his earlier cry.
“This way, Oaktown. Into the city walls, Oaktown! Kestrel, join us!” the voice called, as the fog dissipated.
Kestrel’s view was extending. Objects nearby were sharpening into identities – trees, bushes, battling elves. The white walls of fog further away were becoming patches of darkness and light.
Kestrel saw one of his followers battling two elves from Center Trunk, and he tossed Lucretia at one of the opponents.
There was a large, dark, moving mass off to his right, and Kestrel pivoted to prepare for battle.
The mass changed as it drew closer, becoming figures, walking close to one another, and then the figures became elves, and Kestrel recognized Casimo, leading the arrival of the forces from inside Firheng.
“Oaktown, into Firheng – now!” Kestrel called loudly, as he started walking towards Casimo.
“Lucretia, return!” he said, and felt the knife strike his hand moments later.
“Casimo!” Kestrel called. He looked around the battlefield, and saw his forces converging on his location. “These are our people, Casimo!” he called.
“Kestrel friend, the other army is very close,” Mulberry came swooping down to report. “They are only a few minutes away,” she warned.
“Come along! Come join us in Fortress Firheng!” Casimo said as he engulfed Kestrel in a tight embrace. “What a welcome arrival of an ally!”
Kestrel looked around, and saw that all his elves were within sight, none of them significantly wounded.
“Lead us in,” Kestrel told Casimo, and the whole group began an orderly retreat back to the walls of Firheng as the last tatters of fog were swept away by the late afternoon breeze.
Once inside the walls of the city, Kestrel felt a tingling sensation. He grinned as he anticipated the cause.
“Putienne is here. Where is she?” he asked
“What do I sense about you?” Medeina asked.
“Putty?” Kestrel called aloud, turning his head to examine the inhabitants of the city who were closest to the heavily fortified gate.
“Kestrel!” he heard a faint voice call.
Kestrel caught sight of a surging force moving through the crowd, as milling people were pressed aside and jostled out of the way of an unseen force that was moving directly towards him. As the disruption drew closer, he could see flashes of the girl, when openings in the crowd allowed momentary glimpses, and he started to move in her direction as well.
“My lord?” Casimo asked momentarily, but his call was lost to Kestrel’s attention as he and Putienne closed in upon one another, and finally broke past the last vendor’s stall that separated them, and embraced in a full body hug, as Kestrel squeezed Putienne tightly, lifting her off her feet and possessing her like she was a work of art that he never intended to let out of his clutches again.
“Oh Putty,” he murmured softly. “How have you been? Has anyone hurt you? Are you here with Remy? Is he treating you well?” all his concerns for her flowed out into a stream of questions.
“Kestrel, oh Kestrel, I’m so sorry I wasn’t with you! Were you able to carry out your mission? I’m so glad to see you!” she told him.
Kestrel lowered her to her feet, and the two of them stood holding hands, staring at one another, studying for clues about what each had experienced during their unexpected, prolonged absence from each other.
“Remy took good care of me,” she said. “When the elves from Center Trunk came and started throwing people in jail and taking over everything, they tri
ed to arrest him, but I turned into a yeti and set him free, then we started running to Firheng. He said he heard you say once it was a good place with good people, so we came up here, and we’ve been here ever since.
“How were the mountains?” she asked.
“The mountains were no problem,” he fudged. “But it was a long journey without you.”
“I never want to leave you again!” Putty declared. “We’ll stay together from now on – you and me and Remy. We’ll fight this war and win it, then we’ll go back to Oaktown and live happily ever after!”
“We’ll take this one step at a time,” Kestrel grinned gently. The fact that Remy had been elevated to become one of their permanent partners was surprising, but didn’t warrant questioning immediately.
“Kestrel?” Medeina’s voice distracted him. He felt her hand reach out to touch his shoulder. “Ah,” she said softly. “You did this yourself?”
“Who is this, Kestrel?” Putienne asked.
“Kestrel!” Remy belatedly broke through the crowd. “Now I know we can win, if Kestrel’s here!” the boy said.
“Whoa! Who’s this? Putty’s mom?” he asked, eyeing Medeina.
“Young man! I am hardly old enough to be her mother. Perhaps her slightly older sister,” the goddess said in an offended tone of voice.
“Who is she, Kestrel?” Putienne repeated. “She’s lovely!”
“This is my friend, Moorin,” Kestrel stammered.
“The two look so much alike!” Casimo said in astonishment. “They must be related.”
“Distantly,” Medeina said with aplomb.
“Kestrel warrior, the new army is arriving,” Mulberry came swooping down to inform him.
“Let’s go up to the top of the walls, to have a look,” Casimo suggested, “and we’ll bring you up to speed about the situation.”
“Can you arrange bunks for my people first?” Kestrel asked. “I want to get them settled; we’ve been traveling for a week to get here.”
A Marriage of Friends Page 9
